


The Right Thing II; What You Leave Behind

by ShamanOfHedon



Series: The Right Thing [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Arena, Daggerfall, Elder Scrolls - Freeform, F/F, Morrowind, Skyrim - Freeform, oblivion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamanOfHedon/pseuds/ShamanOfHedon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a funeral being held in Solitude, and the Jarl is patiently awaiting the arrival of an unannounced but very much expected guest...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Thing II; What You Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> The Dovahthuum spoken by Paarthurnax is actual correct Dovathuum. Yes I am a huge nerd.

The people of Solitude were quiet as they went about their preparations. Not that this was to be unexpected. They were after all decorating the streets in black tapestry for the wake. Often when a Thane died the people were unmoved. Many Thanes were your typical petty and self-centred wealthy society brats who simply inherited the title, and the people of the hold rarely much liked the nobility. But this Thane was special. She had been titled by Jarl Lydia, who herself had been hand selected by High Queen Elisef after her coronation. And Lydia's personal choice for a new Thane had won the love of the people of Solitude by advocating reforms all across Skyrim to better the lives of common folk.

In the small alcove just outside the Temple of the Divines, once again counted as Nine, a memorial had been set up, with the late Thane's portrait displayed amongst the many flowers and wreathes the citizens of Skyrim had left for her. In the huge courtyard beyond the alcove people mingled, sharing songs and stories of the honoured dead. The body itself was being kept in the temple, to be brought out later in the evening for the funeral pyre ceremony. No one was allowed to enter the temple before then, and few could even bring themselves to go and gaze upon the memorial.

But the current Jarl, the now middle aged daughter of Lydia, who had laid her mother to rest 20 years prior, wasn't joining in the festivities. Jarl Svetla of Solitude was sitting alone in the alcove, in shadow, dressed in common clothing, her guards ordered to treat her as any common folk and give no one cause to suspect who she was. She had not the heart to join in the sombre festivities in the courtyard. For her it was enough that her people were finding the strength to celebrate her fallen friend's life rather than weep for her death. Tradition dictated that the Jarl not attend in person until it was time to set the pyre ablaze anyway, so no one would miss her out in the crowd.

No, Svetla had an entirely different purpose for her silent shadowy vigil in the alcove outside of the Temple. She was waiting for a very special guest, one who would slip quietly into the city, escape notice, and pay their respects in private. Someone she had grown up being told of fondly, but whom she had met only once. 

It was just nearing the last feeble rays of daylight vanishing across the horizon when her patience was rewarded. It was still several hours before midnight, when the final ceremony would begin. She knew her expected guest would wait until darkness, but come well before people were beginning to loiter around the memorial to watch the deceased being brought to the pyre. And she was right. A lone figure in a black cloak had slipped into the alcove, unseen even by those who were waiting and watching specifically for them.

The guards tried their best to hide how startled they were, and casually glanced over to their disguised Jarl, who very subtly nodded back to confirm that, yes, her special guest had arrived. Had anyone else tried to touch the memorial or enter the Temple, the guards would detain them, but Svetla had made it clear THIS guest was not to be impeded in any way.

Svetla watched for twenty minutes as the figure simply stood motionless, staring at the portrait of the deceased. Then the figure in the black cloak, their face and body obscured so no one could determine their identity or even their gender, quietly turned, casually looked towards the guards, and finally towards Svetla. The disguised Jarl again simply nodded, and the figure bowed their head. Then they turned and walked into the Temple.

Svetla motioned her guards over, no longer needing to worry about the disguise.

"I will give her some time alone," she said. "Then I shall join her. Captain Reinard, please see to it we are not disturbed."

The Guard Captain bowed his head in acknowledgement and waved his men back to their positions.

"Is it truly her?" he asked his Jarl, almost awestruck.

"No." she replied. "And that is what you will tell anyone who gets curious and asks. She left all that behind decades ago. Respect that. So far as you are concerned, or anyone else is concerned, the woman in there is but an old family friend, come to pay her respects."

"Aye my Jarl," the Captain agreed, and himself returned to his position.

Svetla waited nearly an hour, giving the lone figure privacy. Then before the crowd started to gather she entered the Temple, where she was expected to be anyway by now.

The deceased was laying atop a cairn of straw, in her finest gown, looking peaceful and still, almost as if sleeping, ready to be carried out to the pyre in a few hours. The woman besides her was not so peaceful, looking both young and ancient, beautiful and tired, a contradiction with years behind her one good eye that belied her soft youthful face. Her hair was long and pure white like fresh fallen snow, as was her dead listless right eye. The hair was much longer than the last time they had met, and was braided in ornate loops to keep it contained. She was a Breton, or at least by all appearances could be presumed to be.

The contradictory woman heard Svetla enter but did not move or look away from the deceased. She was sitting directly by the body, her fingers interlaced with the deceased's.

"You look so very much like your mother," she said, still not looking up. "Even more so then when last we met."

"When last we met," Svetla replied, "I was but 13 years of age. And I at least have in fact aged some."

"Don't sass me Little Burden," the contradictory woman said, finally standing up and turning to the Jarl, reluctantly releasing the deceased's hand.

"I'm the Jarl now you know," Svetla said. "Why, I could have you thrown into the dungeon for such insolence!"

For a moment, they looked sternly at each other. Then the pretend anger gave way to smiles as they moved to hug one another.

And then, as they embraced like an Aunty and her cherished niece, the smiles turned to sobs, and they simply held each other and wept.

\--------

It had been two long exhausting years since that infuriating day when the sky opened up and bellowed an ancient word at Marie. She had once again been ensnared in a destiny she never wanted, compelled by her innate kindness to do what was right. She was sitting on the peak of the Throat of the World, gazing out upon the whole of Skyrim, in quiet contemplation of what to do now. She had changed in these two years. More so than in the nigh 400 she had lived prior to it. She had taken control of the destiny being forced upon her. For once, instead of trying to run away, or just go along for the ride, helping where she could, Marie decided how events would play out.

She had hunted down and destroyed the last fragile remnants of the Dark Brotherhood, and set the Night Mother's mummified corpse ablaze, sending her to her long overdue final end.

She had gutted the Thieves Guild, purging it of the petty selfishness and greed that had poisoned it, and restored it to the noble guild of selfless shadow crusaders who stole only from the greedy and corrupt to help out the helpless and downtrodden.

She cut Hircine's foul influence from the heart of the Companions, restoring them to the noble guild of honoured warriors their found Ysgramor had intended, ridding them of the Werewolf curse.

She restored Skyrim's faith in the College of Winterhold by preventing a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions.

She saw the corruption spread by Maven Black-Briar, and killed her stone dead in the marketplace in Riften, challenging anyone to arrest her for it, putting the fear of the Divines into anyone that might be tempted to take Maven's place in her criminal empire.

And perhaps, most tellingly of her newfound refusal to just go where destiny forced her, she made a choice that completely changed the playing field. 

As her fame grew yet again, as the Dragonborn became how she was known to all of Skyrim, even as she kept her past as the Champion of Cyrodil, the Nerevarine, and the former Empress of Tamriel a secret, she was badgered frequently by both sides of the Skyrim Civil War to join their cause. Ulfric and his Stormcloaks, Tullius and his Imperial Legion. They all infuriated her. Here there were dragons being raised from the dead by Alduin the World-Eater. Here all of Tamriel was teetering on the verge of apocalypse. And yet these idiotic mortals were continuing their petty inconsequential war that was only benefiting those who had fanned it's flames, and benefiting NONE who shed blood for it.

Marie had done some investigating amidst all the other tasks she was accomplishing, and discovered that it was the Thalmor, those blasted arrogant bastards who served the Aldmeri Dominion, who had actually set into motion the events that started the war, and who were working in secret to perpetuate it, hoping to decimate a good chunk of Tamriel's potential armies so they could break the White-Gold Concordat and restart the Great War to conquer all of Tamriel.

So when Marie was asked to schedule a peace conference at High Hrothgar to call a truce in the war until Alduin was dealt with, and both Tullius and Ulfric CONTINUED to try to recruit her while the Thalmor ambassador could barely restrain her smug smile, Marie chose a third option. 

At that moment, Marie had decided she had had enough, and that was the moment she finally stopped burying what she truly was, the moment she stopped pretending she was still a Breton.... still even a human. She waved her hands in annoyance, causing Ulfric and Tullius to slam into each other, bloodying their noses and leaving them dizzy. She waved a finger, and the chair that the Thalmor Ambassador sat in became her prison, wrapping around her to trap her in place. With a single look, everyone else in the room was frozen in place unable to move or speak. And as she was the only one left who could speak, she did so.

"You all call me Dragonborn," she began, her voice eerily calm and serene, "but a Dragonborn is merely a man. A mortal. A human who can speak a particularly difficult language purely by instinct. They are still only human, able to be harmed or killed, fallible, mortal."

"I," she said, matter of factly, "am not."

The eyes of her captive audience grew collectively wider in fear as they realized in unison that the kind of power she was displaying was beyond even the most studied mages. Marie was pacing the room as she spoke, but her feet were not touching the floor. She was walking on the air, and a trail of raw luminous energy followed her every movement.

"I was once, of course, so very long ago," she began to explain. "When I was just Marie. Orphaned Daughter of The Right Hand of Uriel. Mired since birth in other peoples' plans and machinations. Cursed to live a life that was never my own. Just a poor broken Breton girl on a path to a destiny I never asked for nor ever wanted. But I did as was asked of me, always, because it is in my nature. I do the right thing."

She paused a moment, letting everything sink in. While she doubted too many of the Imperial Soldiers or Stormcloaks were history experts, she fully expected the others to be well-versed. They Blades, who once served her but had devolved into bitter petty murderers. The Greybeards who hid themselves here in this monastery ignoring the cries of the world below. The Thalmor Ambassador and the two embittered foes, who would all need to know their history to succeed in their positions. She knew her next words would make all of them understand exactly what stood before them.

"And four centuries ago," she continued, "the right thing included letting a Deadra trick me into becoming a Goddess. Because as the Nerevarine, the only way to save all of Tamriel from being destroyed by a mad false god and his giant Dwemer Golem was by destroying the Heart of Lorkhan."

Again she paused to let that sink in. Her immobile audience was now trembling, their eyes wide with fear. Even Ulfric and Tullius were visibly terrified, and the Blades, Delphine and Esbern, who had been using Marie for their own ends, thinking her just a convenient lackey to manipulate, were terrified realizing that she was in fact the woman they were sworn to serve in perpetuity. Everyone in the room stopped struggling. the will to fight left them. They were all terrified and broken. They were in the presence of the Inheritor of Lorkhan. Marie was beyond any Daedric Prince or Divine of Akatosh. She was beyond even Akatosh himself. Within her was the power of the World Maker. The dead god who created everything. And they were very afraid.

Marie released everyone and commanded they all reclaim their seats. She took her seat. Her eyes stopped glowing. She calmed herself and returned to her normal self. She WAS immortal, and indeed did have the power of Lorkhan. But her body was still that of a simple Breton girl. If she tapped into her Goddesshood too much, she would burn that body up, and her soul would be released and become truly the mightiest of all Gods. But without her conscience, her restraint. And if she allowed that, the world would truly burn. 

So she only tapped her true power just enough to terrify her audience. Let them fear her potential to destroy, and she could manipulate that fear to a beneficial end.

So with everyone terrified, she pointed out that by Tamrielic Law she still possessed the Authority of Empress, if she so chose to use it. And she did. She dissolved the White-Gold Concordat, and decreed all Thalmor were to return to the Adlmeri Dominion and stay there. They were free to be their own country, but were never under ANY circumstances to ever leave it. Any High Elves who wished to leave the Dominion were welcome in the Empire, but Thalmor were not, and if they tried, they would be burned where they stood.

Then she turned to Tullius, and ordered him to withdraw from Skyrim. Let Skyrim be independent, leave it in peace. The Empire was to never set foot here again. When Ulfric decided he was fool enough to think this meant she was siding with him, he found himself floating in the air, struggling to breathe.

Marie told him his bigotry was no longer acceptable. Elisef would be High Queen, the Stormcloaks would disband, and Ulfric would burn. And burn he did, to ashes, in moments. Marie looked around the table, daring ANYONE to challenge her.

No one did. Everyone agreed to her terms. She instructed them to never tell ANYONE who she was. Use tales of who she was to terrify people into conceding to her edicts, but to never admit the Dragonborn was the angry secret Goddess. She wanted her life back when all this was through.

As they all left, she had exited the building and climbed to the peak. That had been hours ago. The ancient dragon Paarthurnax had been silently watching her all that time as she sat wordlessly on the peak, unfazed by the wind or the cold.

"Do you think I went too far?" she finally asked him. He was one of maybe five beings in all of Skyrim she had any genuine fondness for. She had come to respect a few people over these past two years, but only actually liked a precious few. Paarthurnax had recognized her as different and made no fuss about it. And he treated her like an equal, a peer. She could almost see him as a strange sort of father figure.

"Zu'u nis saag, I cannot say," he replied, in his booming ancient voice, and his strange habit of saying the beginning of every statement twice, first in his own tongue, then again in hers. "It is your immense power you suppress, and your power to choose when to display."

"That isn't what I meant," she said sadly. "That part was right. I knew exactly how much power I could show off before it would start to harm me. And I showed them just enough to scare them all into doing as I asked, and putting this stupid distracting war to rest."

"Fos ruz aal Zu'u laan, what then may I ask DID you mean Little Dovah?" Paarthurnax asked, curious.

"Did I do the right thing," she asked, "by trusting them to go do it? By trusting I scared them enough to do what needs to be done so I can save all of us and end Alduin without distractions? Or should I have done more to be sure they'll play along?"

"Nuz til Los irudak Zu'u lorot, there IS a distraction I think," the elderly dragon replied, "and it is not the mortal folk. Nust los joor, they are mortal. They fear the godly and the ancient. They bend over backward to appease what is too much stronger than they. They will obey. But you are still distracted."

"You mean Serana," Marie said sadly.

"Gein wo siifur hin hil geh, the one who has your heart, yes," he said, nodding and shifting slightly on the old crumbling ruin of a Word Wall upon which he perched.

"She has been quiet these past few days," Marie said. "It has been months now since we ended her father. She assures me she bears me to no grudge for it. Her father was mad. He wanted to blot out the sun. Tamriel would have died even without the threat of Alduin. She understood we had no choice. But these past few nights as we have lain together, she has been... distant."

"Ah yes, grin ireik, the mating habits of humans," he said with what could best be described as a throaty chuckle. "I do not claim to understand the bonds of love as humans experience them. Dovah bond in different ways. But Zu'u lost lingrah koriaan, I have long witnessed it, and know how powerful a connection it can be for your kind. But fah hi suranmiik, for you especially, I think it is a difficult bond to feel."

"You're not wrong," Marie said. "I tried being in love a few times, in the years after Red Mountain erupted. It never worked. three left me when I told them I'd never grow old, and the one who stayed with me did grow old. I have avoided romantic entanglements since. It hurts too much to fall in love just to someday bury them."

"Nuz dahik rek ahk los vozahlaas, because she is immortal too," Paarthurnax replied, "you opened your heart to her, and now it is hers to cherish, ek wah al."

"Ek wah al indeed," she replied wearily.

Their discussion was interrupted by a polite cough. The pair turned to see Lydia, the brusque cranky Nord woman who had been named her Housecarl when the Jarl of Whiterun went a tad overboard in his gratitude to Marie for killing the dragon at the Western Watchtower those two years prior. Lydia, despite her snarky demeanor and air of grouchiness, had become a cherished friend and confidante, and swore loyalty to Marie in time by her own choice rather than by the duty of her vocation. 

"Forgive me my Thane," Lydia said quietly, still awestruck to stand in the presence of a dragon that wasn't trying to kill her, and still trying to process what she had just watched Marie do downhill a few hours before. "It is time we ought be going. Tomorrow my Jarl sets the trap in Dragonsreach for you. You need to rest. Tomorrow is the end of all this, if all goes well."

"You know I don't sleep," Marie said.

"Neither does she," Lydia shot back, her snark peeking through her awe. "But you both talk. And after what I just heard I think you both need to. It may be the last chance you get."

"Is it in your job description to sass me like that Burden?" Marie asked with a half a smile. She had taken to calling Lydia "Burden" affectionately, in response to Lydia's snarky attitude whenever Marie handed her anything to carry.

"No," Lydia replied, "It's a bonus service I provide free of charge because you're extra special."

Marie smirked, and hugged Lydia. She turned to Paarthurnax and bade him farewell, which he returned with a polite nod. And with that, she and Lydia went to the little quaint house in Whiterun the Jarl had given her when he named her a Thane.

Serana was waiting. Marie had asked she stay behind, because she didn't trust the Blades or the soldiers on either side to behave themselves in the presence of a vampire. When they entered, Serana was in a nightgown, reading a book by the kitchen fire. She didn't look up when the pair entered, but greeted them both. They greeted her back and began to make themselves comfortable.

"Did it go well then?" she asked, finally looking up, her striking luminescent orange eyes studying the faces of her friend and her lover.

"I don't think you truly want to know what she did," Lydia said, as she removed her armor and sat near the fire herself. Serana wrinkled her nose in confusion for a moment, then went wide-eyed.

"You let then see?" she asked incredulously.

"They left me no choice," Marie said wearily, as she finished removing her own armor. "They bickered and postured and bellowed and bloviated and not a damned one of them was willing to actually listen or put the fate of the entire world before their own tiny petty interests."

"And there's no way that won't come back to haunt you no sir no indeed," Lydia said, quirking a brow at her and munching some cheese. Serana couldn't help but giggle. Marie just threw her shirt at Lydia's head before slipping into her bedclothes.

"I trust you to know what you were doing Loved Be," Serana said, patting the chair beside her, "but let's have a look at you all the same."

Marie did as Serana wished, helpless to say no to the woman she loved. Serana and Lydia were the only two people in Skyrim aside of Paarthurnax whom she had told the full truth of her past to, including the truth of her many scars. The reason Marie knew that her human body, even though immortal, would burn up and crumble if she freely used her Godhood, was because it had already begun to. Every scar she had, including her dead eye, was the result of tapping into that power. If she tapped too much or used it for too long, her flesh began to crack and bleed. No mortal weapon could scar her, but she let people assume otherwise. Only Serana and Lydia knew the truth of how she truly got her scars.

"Good," Serana said. "No wounds. You restrained it well enough. Still, shame on you for taking such a risk!"

"As I said," Marie replied, "they left me no choice. But I believe I've terrified them enough to get my point across. All that remains is Alduin."

Lydia had finished changing into some casual clothing, and interrupted them.

"I'll be spending the night at my mother's home," she said. "The two of you need some time alone."

Marie walked her to the door. Lydia turned to her, speaking quietly so Serana wouldn't hear.

"That last thing," she asked, "that you and Paarthurnax said to one another, "Ek wah al". What did that mean?"

"It meant "Hers to destroy" Lydia," Marie replied. Lydia nodded sadly and hugged Marie goodnight.

With that, Lydia left, and Serana lead Marie upstairs to bed.

A few hours later, as they lay together, cuddling and caressing each other, playing with each others hair, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Marie broke the silence first.

"So," she said, planting a soft kiss on Serana's forehead, "are you ever going to tell me what's been eating at you these past few days?"

Serana sighed deeply, knowing this conversation was inevitable. For a moment she said nothing, and sat up, reaching for her nightgown. She slipped it on and stood, looking out the window that looked over the city walls, out into the fields in the dark. Marie remained nude, in bed, unsure if she should follow Serana to the window. After a few short minutes that felt like a thousand years, Serana finally spoke.

"I want to be cured," she said.

Marie said nothing, in quiet shock.

"I feared you'd be struck silent like this," Serana said sadly. "Please don't misunderstand me. I love you so very very much Marie. I do. And I cherish you. You've been a rock of sanity in all this madness. My emancipator, my redeemer, my salvation. You gave me a new chance, you set me free, you took me as is. But I see how most everyone else looks at me. Like I'm the devil in their midst. Mothers push their children behind their backs when they see me. People cover their necks and pretend they had an itch. I'm reasonably certain that my being your lover is the only thing keeping the city watch from gutting me on sight. That mutt Aela threatened to challenge me to a duel for your hand the other day. She only backed down when I threatened to tell the guards and the other Companions that she was still a werewolf."

"I thought I'd been clear with her," Marie said sighing. "I'll sort her out in the morning before I go up to the keep."

"It's not just the way people act," Serana said sadly. "Animals either growl at me or run from me. I can't walk in the daylight unless I'm swaddled up like a freshly wrapped draugr. I can't sit with friends and share a meal. I can't ever have..."

She trailed off there, crying now, silently. Marie stood, not bothering with a robe, wrapping her arms around her beloved. She turned Serana to face her and kissed her tears away. She cried too, seeing her beloved in pain. She knew what Serana was about to say and it broke her heart.

Serana shook it off. 

"I'm being silly," she said. "I'm probably just scared and confused and worried. I've been stressed for days about you leaving tomorrow. My fear is likely getting the better of me. Nevermind Loved Be. Forget I brought it up. I can live with all of that if I can have eternity with you. Loving you for all time will make the rest of it okay. Let's go back to bed."

Marie kissed Serana tenderly and climbed back into bed with her, whispering "I love you" as they cuddled.

A short time later Lydia answered her mother's door to find Marie standing there looking broken and sad.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be with Serana enjoying your last few hours before the fight of your life?"

"Serana is sleeping Lydia," Marie replied. "We should let her be." 

"Vampires don't sleep," Lydia said, raising an eyebrow at Marie.

"Vampires don't," Marie replied, coughing up blood. Lydia grew wide-eyed.

"Marie what did you do?" she asked, deeply. worried. Marie turned to her, smiling sadly, wiping the blood from her mouth and lifting her shirt to show a fresh bloodied crack across her stomach.

"The right thing."

\--------------------

Svetla and the contradictory woman sat down together by the deceased, drying their eyes. Svetla looked fondly at the woman, whom she had met only twice now her entire life yet knew completely.

"I know the truth Marie," she said to the contradictory woman. "Serana told me in her final days. Shooed all the healers away, wanting her time alone with me so she could tell me the real story."

"Did she now?" Marie replied, almost smirking as she looked down at the deceased, and gently held Serana's cold dead hand in hers.

"Yes," Svetla replied. "She knew you'd come here, just like you did when Lydia died. She told me about your conversation that day, right where you and I are sitting now. She told me everything. She wanted me to know why. She feared I'd hate you if she didn't tell me why."

"She did?" Marie asked, turning back to Svetla.

"She did," Svetla replied.

"Tell me then," Marie asked, "what did she tell you?"

"As I said," Svetla replied, "the truth."

Svetla took a deep breath, and took Marie's hands in hers.

"The morning you left to face Alduin," Svetla began, "Serana woke up. Which she thought somewhat strange since vampires don't actually sleep. As she explained it to me, vampires kind of just freeze in place to rest, a sort of stasis, but not actual sleep. So already she was curious. She had slept so late that you were already gone, off to Sovngarde to fight the World-Eater. Lydia was waiting for her, downstairs. She had a short note you had written, and had been crying. "I love you. Live a happy life. Raise her well. Goodbye" it read."

"I remember," Marie said, tears in her eyes.

"Lydia told her," Svetla continued "that you had decided that however much she loved you, immortality wasn't a fair trade for the life you wanted. The life you deserved. She couldn't let you give up a chance at a real life to spend a lonely eternity wandering the world with you. So you tapped into that power knowing you'd already pushed your luck that day, injuring yourself badly to make her human, and make her pregnant. With me."

Marie looked down, her face a mixture of relief and shame, but she said nothing. Svetla lifted Marie's face back up to hers.

"Stop that silly," she said. "It's unbecoming. Serana and Lydia found love with each other, raised me together, married. They were surprised when Queen Elisef named Lydia her Jarl. The two mothers I knew raised me well. They were good rulers. They made this hold prosperous for everyone. They made Skyrim a better place as a whole. I loved them both dearly. Lydia may only have been my mother by marriage but she was my mother nonetheless, and always will be. But so, Marie, are you. YOU gave me life in Serana's womb."

She pulled up Marie's shirt, looking at the scar.

"Lydia told Serana about this," she said. "They both knew how Serana was cured, and how she got pregnant. And now so do I. For a time Serana resented you for leaving as you did, but she came to understand eventually why you did. What you gave up so she could have me and grow old and live free of the fears of others."

"I do the right thing," Marie said, crying quietly. "Even if it hurts me. And the right thing was to give up the woman I loved so she could have a real life, and have everything she wanted that she could never have had with me."

"I know," Svetla said, kissing her secret mother's forehead. "And guess what? So do I."

She handed Marie a letter, addressed to Captain Reinard. It read that she would be leaving Skyrim with her guest, that she named her cousin Camille, a good kind woman, as Jarl in her place, and asked that he tell the people of Solitude that her mother's death was too much to bear and she needed to leave this place behind. Marie read it, and looked up at Svetla.

"Why?" Marie asked.

"Because," Svetla said as she stood up and changed into traveling clothes, "you are my mother. The only one I have left. We have so much lost time to make up for. And... because..."

Svetla took a dagger from her rucksack and sliced her arm. The wound healed almost as quickly as she made it.

"Because I truly am YOUR daughter," she said, "and I don't age either. I stopped aging when I turned 19. I'm my mothers' daughter. I have no place here. I belong with you now."

Marie touched Svetla's arm. Not even a scar left, just like any normal injury on her own skin. She looked at Svetla in tears.

"I'm... I'm so very very sorry," she said. "I thought... I was so sure I'd given her a normal child. I never meant to give you my curse."

"I don't think you had a say," Svetla replied. "You used godly power to conceive a child. I think immortality is just par for the course. So, shall we go? We've a lot of lost time to make up for. And..."

They smiled at each other, and hugged tightly.

"And..." Marie whispered, "we've got all the time in the world."

The pair kissed Serana's cheeks, saying a final goodbye, left Svetla's letter on Serana's chest, and snuck out through the secret tunnels below the Temple made over millennia ago by the the Wolf Queen.

Like Marie, Svetla helped those in need selflessly. Serana had raised her well, as had Lydia. She saw both of them in her. For the first time in a very long time, traveling with her daughter, Marie was happy. And one summer evening some years later, as the mother and daughter who looked like sisters and never aged were strolling down a desert road in Elsweyr, Marie looked upon her smiling daughter, who was reading a book aloud as they walked, and thought quietly to herself...

"I did the right thing."


End file.
